vain. He was once ill, and on his recovery all Paris was filled with rejoicing. An immense crowd gathered around the palace on the eve of St. Louis's Day in honor of the convalescence. As the boy-king stood on the balcony of the palace on the occasion, Marshal Villeroy said to him,

"Look at all this company of people: all are yours; they all belong to you; you are their master.'

"Think of a boy's being told that the people of Paris belonged to

him!

"I can wonder at the Reign of Terror, but I cannot be surprised at the Revolution when I view the history of France for the century that preceded it. It is rather a matter of surprise that an enlightened people should have submitted to tyranny so long."

Nantes is the Paris of the Loire. Its streets, boulevards, public squares, the forest of masts in the river, and the trees that line its banks, all seem a copy of the bright and gay French capital. Its old cathedral is a queer-looking building, with towers scarcely higher than its roof; but it contains a most beautiful tomb which was erected in memory of Francis II. last Duke of Bretagne. It is adorned with figures of angels, the twelve Apostles, St. Louis, and Charlemagne.

One of the most interesting excursions made by the Class from Nantes was to the ruin of the old castle of

BLUE-BEARD.

There existed, many centuries ago, a ferocious, cruel old lord, whose treatment of his wives and ogre-like tyranny to all around him, gave origin to the thrilling story of Blue-beard; indeed, the story was so nearly true that this old lord was actually called "Blue-beard" by his neighbors, so blue-black was his long and stubby beard.

He lived in the old days when barons were fierce and despotic, and shut their wives and daughters up in dark dungeons or high castle

casements, and thought little more of ordering a score of peasants off to instant execution than of eating their breakfasts.

He was a rich old fellow, and had several castles scattered about the country, whither princes and dukes used to go and visit him, and share in his hunting-parties in the wildwoods.

His castles were situated in the province of Brittany, and his real name was one which is still to be found in these secluded regions, — the Sieur Duval. The lapse of time has caused all his fine castles wholly to disappear, with one exception, and it is that which I am about to describe to you.

Sieur Duval had his favorite residence on the banks of a lovely little river, about two miles from Nantes. Here he was near town, and might ride in on one of his high-tempered chargers whenever he listed, to join the revels of the dukes, or go wife-hunting.

It was at this castle that his cruelties to his unhappy spouses are supposed to have occurred; and it was from Nantes that the brother of his last wife is said to have ridden in hot haste to rescue his wretched sister and make an end of the odious old tyrant.

Taking a row-boat by the high, old bridge which, just on the outskirts of Nantes, spans the river Erdre, you find yourself at first on a broad sheet of water, with quaint, whitewashed stone-houses and huts, their roofs covered with red brick tiles, and occasionally more handsome mansions with lawns and gardens extending to the riverbank. Here you may perhaps observe a row of curious flat-boats with roofs, but open on all sides, lining both banks of the stream. these are a number of hard-featured, dark-skinned women of all ages, washing clothes. They lean over the boat-sides, and scrub the shirts and handkerchiefs in the water, then withdraw them, lay them smoothly on some flat boards, like a table, and taking a flat hammer pound upon them.

In

Presently you get past these, if you row vigorously, and come to pretty bends in the river, and find yourself beyond the thickly-settled

part, amidst pleasant rural fields, with some wealthy merchant's mansion raising its towers above the green trees.

After a while you approach a bright little village, all of whose houses form a single street just along the banks of the river. Here you disembark and pass along the village street, across a rickety bridge which spans a little inlet from the stream, and so out into the country, and through paths in the woods thickly grown with brush and wildflowers.

Presently, soon after you have got out of sight of the village, you ascend a gentle hill, and suddenly come upon an old, old house, with its wooden ribs appearing, crossing each other, through the stone walls, and a roof that looks as if about to fall in upon the people who inhabit it.

Just beyond this, deeply imbedded in shrubs, brush, thickly-grown ivies and other vines, and moss, is all that is left of Blue-beard's castle.

The walls are still there, dividing the apartments. You can imagine the rooms and the tower which arose above the tall trees that here cluster on the river bank. And you may fancy, as you stand among the beautiful ruins, that you are on the very spot where the room used to be which Blue-beard forbade his last wife to enter.

Here is the portal, now crumbled and almost covered with moss and ivy, where the old tyrant came in and out; there the wall where the last of his poor victims sat, looking out and straining her eyes to see her brother coming; beyond, the spot where Blue-beard was struck down, and received his deserts. It seems too beautiful a place for so remorseless an ogre; and as one looks out upon the lovely scenes where the tearful spouses mourned their lot, one cannot help thinking how happy they might have been in such a charming retreat, had they enjoyed it with loving husbands and happy homes.

CHAPTER XVII.

HOMEWARD.

66

ON THE CLIFFS AT HAVRE. STORIES OF FRENCH AUTHORS.

'NLY three days more remain to us in France," said Master Lewis, after spending two days in Nantes. "We will now return to Paris by rail, stopping a few hours in Orleans, and from Paris will go directly to Havre, whence we will take the steamer for home."

"It seems to me," said Wyllys Wynn, "that, after what we have seen, I shall like no reading so well as history."

"It has been my aim," said Master Lewis, "to take you to those places where the principal great events of the histories of England and France have occurred. I stopped at Carlisle to give you a lesson in the early history of Britain, the periods of the Druids and the Romans. I took you to Glastonbury to give you a view of the history of the early English Church. I went with you to Aix-la-Chapelle that you might receive an impression of the dominion of Charlemagne. Normandy is the common ground of old English and French history. I was glad to select it for you as the direct object of our visit, although it has formed a small part of our journey. I, like Tommy, have had a secret which I have kept for the Club; it has been to interest you in the places and events which would lead you, on your return, to become more careful readers of the best books. I hope the journey will leave an historic outline in your minds that future reading will fill. Character is as much determined by the books one reads as by

the

company one keeps. Show me a boy's selection of books, and I will tell you what he is and what he is likely to become."

แ

Master Lewis," said Wyllys, "says he has aimed to take us to

Let us try to asso-
As I think of our

such historic places as would give us, at the end of the journey, a connected picture of English and of French history. ciate the places we have seen with historic events. Scottish and English journey, I connect, —

แ

"Carlisle with the Druids and Romans.

Glastonbury with Early Christianity and the Boy Kings. "Normandy with William the Conqueror and his sons.

"Nottingham with Robin Hood and the Norman and Plantagenet

Kings.

"Boscobel with King Charles.

Edinburgh with Mary, the Edwards, and the Douglases.

"Kenilworth with Elizabeth.

'Oxford with Canute and Alfred.

"London with the Tudors, the Commonwealth, the Georges, and Victoria."

"In our journey on the continent," said Frank, "I associate, "Brussels with Waterloo and Napoleon.

"Aix-la-Chapelle with Charlemagne.

"Ghent and Bruges with the Dukes of Flanders and Burgundy.

"Calais with Mary Tudor and Edward III. of England.

"Rouen with Charles VII. and Joan of Arc.

Paris with Charles IX., the Bourbons, and Napoleon.

"Nantes with the Huguenots and the Revolution."

"We have also had views of the homes and haunts of great authors," said Ernest. "I have made a scrap-book of leaves and flowers from the homes and graves of men of letters, and it includes souvenirs of nearly all the most eminent names in English literature."

Havre is really a port of Paris, and is one of the most thriving maritime towns of France. Like most port towns it is more business